


Requiring Acute Attention

by blehgah



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, But a little different, Clairvoyance, M/M, a lot of food imagery, basically mind reader au, still in the AH office though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5656525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's a mind-reader, and there's one mind in the office that attracts him immensely, much to his chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiring Acute Attention

Gavin's head is always brimming with new ideas. To a telepath, a mind so full of energy is inherently attractive, and Ryan uses that word very loosely.

He's _attracted_ to Gavin, sure, maybe in the way that a moth is attracted to a flame or the way that flies are attracted to rotting food. He's attracted in the way that loose threads are attracted to barbs and he's also caught in the way that flies are trapped in spiders' webs.

In other words, he's very thoroughly _fucked_.

His supernatural ability is the main reason why he's so susceptible to falling prey to Gavin's inane questions. Ryan tries, and fails about half the time, to wrap his oversensitive mind around the complex workings of Gavin's. Sometimes he thinks it's because he can't back down from a challenge.

And it's not as if the rest of the group's minds aren't as interesting. But Gavin's thoughts run in such an unpredictable manner that always catches Ryan's attention, whether or not he's actively seeking Gavin out or not.

Geoff leans over onto Ryan's desk, nudging his forearm with an elbow.

"You realize you've been staring at him for the past five minutes, right?" Geoff asks, his smirk woven into the syllables of his words.

Ryan looks up from Gavin's desk, then turns his head to look at Geoff. "Who?" he asks. Ryan doesn't like to play dumb, but it's a simple and easy plan to fall back on.

Geoff rolls his eyes and backs off an inch or two. "You know who I'm talking about." The curve of his lips is damning, and Ryan can feel sweat bead on the back of his neck. "At first I thought, 'did that damn idiot shave half of his face and not the other again?' But it only takes a few seconds to figure that out. And you..." Geoff's smirk grows into a shit-eating grin. "You could've run around Stage 5 and back in the time you spent just looking."

Like Ryan, Geoff also possesses some form of supernatural ability. It's more common to have one than not these days. Geoff thinks about it often enough for Ryan to know, but neither of them have discussed it.

His ability is some form of strong empathy. However, Geoff doesn't use it to manipulate others' feelings; usually, he uses it to find the most opportune moments to pester and heckle people, and he also uses it to gauge when to back off.

And right now, Geoff's using this ability to exploit Ryan's flustered state.

"Do we really have to talk about this now?" Ryan asks. "I screwed up. Leave me alone."

"Boohoo, poor Ryan's getting bullied," Geoff replies with another nudge, "I'm just, you know-- worried."

"Worried about what?"

Normally, Ryan doesn't use his power to pry. But even if Geoff is just fooling around, Ryan is particularly defensive about his ridiculous attraction to Gavin, so he begins to reach forward with his mind...

"I heard we were bullying Ryan!" Gavin chirps. He comes up from behind Geoff, folding his arms over the top of Geoff's chair.

Immediately, Ryan finds his thoughts revolving around Gavin. There's a wide and cheeky grin on Gavin's face, stretching his lips and raising his stubble with it. Delight and curiosity curls at Gavin's fingertips, in the corners of his lips, in the curve of his smiling eyes.

"I think you accomplish that just by existing," Geoff comments. He maintains eye contact with Ryan as he speaks.

A flush begins to slither under Ryan's skin. "I did nothing to warrant this," Ryan complains.

"Like hell I'll believe that," Gavin responds, "You're always up to no good."

"You're one to talk."

"Should I leave you two to your lover's spat?" Geoff asks, sparing Ryan a wink.

Ryan withers in his seat.

Gavin's thoughts take a questioning tone, although there's an undercurrent of embarrassment that whispers through Ryan's consciousness. The hushed tones echo _lovers?_ over and over.

"Wha--?" Gavin taps the heel of his palm against the back of Geoff's head. "What're you on about, you daft bastard?"

"Yeah, you hear that, Geoff? He called you daft. That's probably 'idiot' in everyday language, right?" Ryan's eyes flick to Gavin's face, an involuntary movement. He kicks himself inwardly when Gavin's dimming smile stirs something in Ryan's chest. "A real burn."

Gavin quirks an eyebrow when their eyes meet. The coarse muttering of _lovers?_ speeds up and becomes an incomprehensible series of crashing and rising breaths tickling the back of Ryan's neck.

"Whatever. Just get back to work, idiots."

For one last time, Gavin and Ryan exchange looks. The whispers die out abruptly as Ryan puts some effort into silencing the line between his mind and Gavin's.

* * *

They're on an episode of Off Topic. In a space like this, on a platform where discussion is encouraged and redefined and rehashed into something called entertainment, Ryan lets loose some of the reins on his ability.

Out of the main six, Ryan finds that Michael meshes best with his hypersensitive brain. While Michael's voice is loud, his thoughts run several tracks at once, and at a speed that's fast enough to catch Ryan's attention. Fortunately, they lack the intensity that would make Ryan uncomfortable.

Plus, Michael can talk. Like, really talk. His mouth runs almost as quickly as his thoughts do, and there's something pretty damn impressive about that. The balance of his physical voice and his mind-voice soothes Ryan's mind-ears.

By Ryan's elbow is Geoff, as if Ryan doesn't get enough of his smart mouth in the office. Geoff's head prickles with a certain energy that tastes sour on Ryan's tongue, sneaking around the folds of his cheek and tongue. He doesn't like it at all; there's a pressure on the back of his neck like water against the walls of a dam.

By Ryan's other elbow is Gavin. The background feed of Gavin's constantly moving thoughts stimulates Ryan's power, a sensation akin to smelling good food. Hunger gnaws at the edges of Ryan's mind and he'd be tired if he had the time to be tired.

Once Michael wraps up his story, Geoff takes the floor, shooting Ryan a sideways glance. "So, I've been doing some reading lately."

"As you do," Michael pipes up quickly, easily.

"Yep." The corners of Geoff's eyes crinkle and his cheeks curve. "Just, you know, shitty magazine garbage, airplane stuff, to kill time."

"You going anywhere with this?" Ryan asks. Geoff's thoughts shift like desert sands, and Ryan wouldn't be able to get a grip on them even if he wanted to.

"Hold your horses, Ryan the impatient guy." Geoff looks directly at a camera before rolling his eyes. "Anyway, as I was saying, I was reading some shit about signs you might be dating a telepath."

"More mind shit?" Michael leans away from the table and sighs. "I swear, everyone's getting one of those except for me!"

Geoff's gaze is cool, a dull blade against the column of Ryan's throat, an empty threat.

"It could happen to you one day, boy," Gavin comments, "And maybe me, too!"

"You're a special case all by yourself, Gavvy," Geoff states with a more genuine smile. Then his eyes slide to Ryan's. "But. As I was saying."

"You're not gonna waste our time regurgitating shit you read in some airplane magazine, are you?" Ryan takes this chance to look at the camera. "Do you really think our sponsors pay for you to talk shit?"

"Uh, yeah? Welcome to Achievement Hunter, dickhead." Geoff gestures to the podcast set. "Hell, welcome to Off Topic! This is the place _dedicated_ to talking shit. Don't tell me I have to remind you."

Ryan's mouth twists. "Nah. I might just be a mind reader, after all." His lips twitch in a half-smile. "But since you're the expert now, maybe we can make sure?"

Geoff lifts an eyebrow, surprise filtering through the folds in his forehead.

It's not as if Ryan has much choice. There's no better way to hide than in the open, right? He'll play along.

"Well, most of it was vague bullshit," Geoff muses. He busies his hands with his pint-glass, but Ryan knows it's a front, pretending that he's putting effort into recalling the things he read. In reality, Geoff memorized it easily, having his own suspicions about Ryan before he read the article out of boredom. "Like, 'does he space out on you often?' and 'does he get lost in thought often?' There were some obvious ones like, 'does he finish your sentences for you?' Unreliable shit, really."

"What does spacing out often have anything to do with it?" Gavin asks, genuinely curious. Although Gavin's staring at Geoff, Ryan is acutely aware he's in Gavin's peripheral vision and it makes his skin prickle.

Geoff glances at Ryan before holding Gavin's gaze. "I'm guessing it might be that the telepath's too busy reading your mind to pay attention to his surroundings, or whatever."

"You sure are using 'he' a lot, Geoff," Michael points out, "Don't tell me that this magazine was not only some shitty airplane piece of crap, but some stupid gossip thing too?"

Geoff shrugs. "Sure, it probably was. It's, you know, it's whatever. Apparently telepaths come in all sorts of flavours."

"I bet," Gavin says, "Being able to read minds must be... Agh, I can't even begin to imagine! Like, do you read minds like words out of a book? Are people's thoughts like inner monologues? Or is it just, like, a feeling that you also feel because you're a damn mind reader?"

"It's an invasion of privacy, too," Ryan adds. His eyes are trained on the tab of his Diet Coke. "Like, how do you know that there isn't a telepath reading your mind right now?"

Michael snorts. "I bet if some mind reader tried to read Gavin's mind, all he'd get was--" Michael blows a raspberry.

"Hey!" Gavin shifts in his seat to gesture his hands in Michael's direction. "What's that supposed to mean? I've got a bloody gold mine of thoughts up here!"

Geoff puts his chin in his palm. "Maybe it's just non-stop questions all day. Something Risinger'd want to put on a shirt, or something."

"It's probably like background music you're never able to shut off," Ryan comments without looking up.

"Yeah, probably," Michael agrees. Geoff's eyes are burning holes into the side of Ryan's head. "Except it'd be really shitty, really grainy crap that'd drive you crazy."

"Oh, sod off!"

Gavin and Michael take a break to shove each other on their stools.

"Refill, anyone?" Ryan asks, standing.

Geoff smirks at him. "You read my mind, Ryan."

* * *

They're alone in the office when Geoff starts the interview.

It's not _officially_ an interview, but questions roll off Geoff's tongue with ease and Ryan can't find a reason to ignore him. Ryan hasn't really talked to anyone about this before, not really, but Geoff's similar enough in this regard that Ryan trusts him, somehow.

It's also entirely possible that Geoff is carefully manipulating him to feel comfortable, honest, and Ryan's powers don't include the ability to fight back.

"Background music you can't turn off, huh?" Geoff begins, a foot on his desk and both eyes on Ryan's face, "Please tell me I'm not some shitty pop chorus on repeat."

"Depends on how you feel," Ryan replies without looking up from his monitor. He's only got one side of his headphones over his ears, but he's got his mind open for easy reception. "Out of all of you, you're probably the most musical. I'm starting to think it's just your empathy expressing itself as something different, though."

Geoff quirks an eyebrow. "So you know about that, huh?"

"You could say I, ah, had a _feeling_."

Geoff snorts. "Oh my _god_ , shut up."

Turning his chair, Ryan slips off his headphones to face Geoff fully. "Why bother outing me on the podcast?"

"I didn't out you," Geoff responds, "I was just, you know. Messing with you." He props his other foot up and crosses his ankles. "No one suspects a thing. They don't know what telepath or mind-reader means, anyway. No one really does."

"Yeah." Ryan crosses his arms and hums. "I don't really, either."

"Sixth sense shit, right? _I had a feeling_. That's one way to put it."

Ryan hums again.

"Gav's got it, too. Got... Something," Geoff continues, "That might be why-- you know."

Ryan looks up. "But he doesn't know what it is?"

Geoff shakes his head. The confusion in his head swirls like thick molasses, slow and viscous and frustrated. If Ryan could stick his fingers in a feeling, he'd bet it would yield, malleable, before sucking him in completely.

"I dunno. It feels like--" Geoff has to chuckle at that one, breathless, "Heightened senses, probably. Hyper-awareness of his surroundings."

"The curiosity's just a natural thing, then," Ryan suggests.

"The weird questions? I guess so."

When they make eye contact, Ryan opens up his mind a little more. Geoff's power is a presence on the surface of his mind and it burns a little, hot and harsh like fire, but it's controlled, honed with years of use. There's no intent behind the forward motion, just a gentle probe-- if poking Ryan with a hot rod could be called gentle.

Ryan concentrates and Geoff's presence condenses. Ryan's go-to when it comes to actually _reading_ minds is text, a simple non-serif font when he can manage it, but pinning it down takes a lot of effort. A person goes through several thoughts at a time when they're not consciously aware of it, but Geoff has something specific on his brain.

Ryan's and Gavin's names rise and fall a few times. Geoff's nose scrunches.

"I can feel that," Geoff mutters.

"Yeah?" Ryan's concentration wavers. Wisps of hot vapour warm the bottom of his brain before sputtering out with a soundless gasp.

"Don't tell me you do this to people often," Geoff whines.

"You're a special case, apparently," Ryan replies, "People don't usually feel it."

It's probably because Geoff's ability is pressed flush against his own. They're both hyper-aware of the odd brain-exchange they're having.

Ryan throws a thought forward like a dart and pins something down.

_One of us._

Hot tendrils of delight and relief slap against the surface under Ryan's skull and he jumps a little, startled.

Geoff's embarrassment is lamp-shaded by his amusement and overall happiness. Ryan digs a little deeper and the creases return to Geoff's nose.

 _You like Gavin_ , Geoff thinks. The thought is surrounded by protectiveness, sharp like knives and hard like diamonds, a cage of sorts. No, it's more like a shield with barbs on the front, an active defense.

"You like him a lot," Geoff observes.

Both the flush on his face and the embarrassment in Ryan's gut burn.

"You could ask him out," Geoff suggests.

Ryan shakes head. "It's not like I _want_ to like him."

Lifting an eyebrow, Geoff responds, "No one wants to like the people they do, Ryan."

_Some people just end up lucky._

* * *

Geoff is a soundtrack of 90s punk and, when Ryan really puts some effort into pinning it down, Streetlight Manifesto's _That'll Be The Day_. For the rest of the week, Ryan has the song stuck in his head, much to his chagrin.

On the other hand, Gavin isn't so much a soundtrack, something with motifs and probably a recurring theme, as he is a collection of infinite sounds. Noises, maybe. Too many things to process at once.

Gavin's humming _That'll Be The Day_ when Geoff and Ryan exchange looks. Geoff nudges Ryan with his foot.

The most disturbing thing about having telepathy is the radio silence that follows when Ryan purposefully cuts himself off from others.

* * *

It's Ryan's turn to hum when Gavin makes eye contact with him over their monitors. The rest of the office has gone out to lunch together; both Ryan and Gavin had turned it down to finish whatever they were working on.

The coincidence nags at Ryan's brain, but he doesn't dare to investigate further.

"I've had that song stuck in my head for _ages_ ," Gavin says, "But I have no idea what it's called."

Ryan blinks and stops humming. What's the song's name again?

"It's, uh." Over time, that one Streetlight Manifesto song had been weeded out and replaced with whatever Gavin had heard on the radio fourteen times over the span of three days. "Something by Adele, I think."

"There's like, five hundred songs by Adele on the radio now, right?" Gavin looks back down at his monitor. "Way to be helpful, Ryan."

"I'm not Google!"

A few clicks later and the chorus of whatever-this-song-is-called has looped in Ryan's head three times.

"Wait a second." Gavin sits up to look at Ryan over their set-up again. "How did you-- I wasn't humming it or anything!"

Sweat beads at the back of Ryan's neck. "You said it yourself, Adele's got a bazillion songs on the radio. I must have heard it there."

"You _hate_ listening to the radio," Gavin fights back, "You're--"

A clamour of arguing voices crashes over Ryan's eardrums so immensely he winces. Accusations fly left and right before they're hushed by other thoughts, worried thoughts, doubting thoughts.

"Is this why Geoff--?" Gavin's brow furrows. The conversation he's having with himself grows louder and louder to the point Ryan can make out words without concentrating.

 _Mind-reader_ clubs Ryan from all sides.

 _No, telepath, get it right, you dolt._ Even Gavin's thoughts have a British accent.

Ryan fights to drag his own thoughts out from the heap of uncertainty weighing upon his vulnerable mind.

"Why Geoff what?" Ryan's words are slow as they fall from his mouth. He shakes his head in hopes of clearing it. "I'm what? Didn't they teach you how to construct full sentences when you were a kid? Come on, Gavin."

All at once, the chorus of voices hush. They retreat into the safety of Gavin's skull with a pitter-patter of intangible footsteps.

"Forget it," Gavin mumbles, "It was a stupid thought, anyway."

"If you say so." Ryan tries to meet Gavin's eyes over their monitors. "You're chock full of those, anyway. Easily forgettable."

"Don't be mean," Gavin whines.

Something honestly cold brushes over Gavin's thoughts before warmth seeps in. The warmth increases when they make eye contact again.

"I'm sorry," Ryan replies with a laugh.

"Oh, come off it. You're not."

"I am! You know how it is with these things, Gav," Ryan continues.

"What, you get to be a right prick, take it back immediately, and then we get to act like nothing happened?"

"Basically!"

Gavin's smiling. Their eyes meet one more time before Gavin seems to settle down again, resuming his clicking.

Just as Ryan's sure that Gavin's thoughts have simmered down to their usual level, a dagger of a thought pierces through his consciousness.

_Cough if you're a mind-reader!_

Ryan's natural response is to cough. The thought was so deliberately thrown at him that he feels winded.

"I knew it!" Gavin bellows, jumping to his feet. "You're a bloody mind-reader!"

"I am?" Again, Ryan plays dumb. The threat of Gavin finding out puts him on the defense, and he puts up his own shields.

"Don't-- I just, I just thought-- see, thought, Ryan, _thought_ , real hard, 'cough if you're a mind-reader', and you bloody coughed!"

"How do you 'think real hard'? Do thoughts have qualities that you can judge by their hardness and softness?"

"I don't know, Mr. Bloody Mind-Reader! You tell me!"

The thing about shielding his mind is that it is _cold_ , a sudden cold, a blanketing, all-encompassing cold. Ryan can't suppress the shivers that dance over his shoulders and arms as he tries to block off his attraction to Gavin.

"Seems like I must be coming down with a cold," Ryan says with a slight chuckle, his voice wavering with his shivers.

"Ry-- Ryan?"

Gavin rounds the computers and desks and chairs and Xboxes and stops at Ryan's side. When his fingers come in contact with Ryan's clothed shoulder, the shields shatter and collapse. The silence of his mind's exposure fills his ears like cotton for a few seconds, a stuffy and stifling sensation, before they clear out in a manner similar to air pressure popping.

"Dammit," he mumbles to himself. Thoughts flood his mind and fill in the nooks and crannies of his brain.

It feels so _good_. If Ryan had to describe it, he'd compare it to drinking something warm on a cold day, or to taking off a pair of headphones after wearing them on top of glasses for several hours straight, or taking a hot shower after physical exertion. There's a satisfying sense of relief that quickly melts into contentedness when Ryan gives into the sensation of Gavin's mind brushing his own.

"Ryan," Gavin repeats.

"It wasn't hard so much as it was sharp," Ryan replies, avoiding Gavin's gaze.

"What?"

The confusion in Gavin's thoughts is quickly drowned out with excitement, the sweet feeling of being _right_.

"The thought you threw at me. It was kind of like a dart or something." Ryan cups his temple for effect. "Honestly? Ouch, man."

"O-Oh." Gavin's brow furrows for a second before a wide grin stretches his lips. "But-- So I was right!"

Ryan shrugs.

Laughing with delight, delicious delight, Gavin grabs Geoff's chair and pulls it up right by Ryan's side.

"You're a mind-reader!" Gavin exclaims, "So, like, can you read my thoughts right now? What's it like? Is it true that it sounds like music? So thoughts can be sharp like knives? Does that mean they can be soft, too? Like-- Like marshmallows?"

"Slow down, jesus," Ryan says, putting up his hands. Gavin's voice, and thoughts, hushes, but his breath fills the room between them before silence can truly settle.

"I can read your mind right now, if you wanted me to," Ryan replies, tackling his questions in order, if he can remember them all, "I try to avoid it if I can. I mean, like, really concentrating and defining a thought in a meaningful way. Usually, it's just... sounds, or feelings. Like the sensation of... Something. So, yeah, thoughts can be sharp or soft or whatever. Sometimes they're light, or heavy, or prickly, and... stuff."

Gavin nods his understanding. In reality, Gavin can't really wrap his head around it, doesn't have anything to compare it to other than the experiences Ryan described, but it fascinates him nonetheless, filling him with wonder.

"There," Ryan says, and the squishy wonder transforms into thinned out questioning, "That just then. When you were trying to understand what I was saying-- what I meant-- it made you... Your reaction was very soft and squishy."

"Huh." Gavin rubs his beard. "So it isn't like words or anything like that? Not like listening in on a conversation?"

Ryan shrugs again. "It _can_ be, if I concentrate. But that's when it gets too invasive, you know? So I don't practice it often or anything."

The idea continues to elude Gavin's realm of understanding.

"You, uh. You still kinda sound British in there," Ryan states.

Gavin grins. "Oh yeah?" He wiggles in his seat. "What else would you say about my brain?"

A breathless laugh rattles Ryan's lungs. "I-I don't even know where to begin."

 

Gavin grabs one of Ryan's knees. His palm is so, so warm.

"Something basic, whatever! I don't care." Gavin's grin is so, so warm. "Just tell me. Please?"

Gavin's head crowds with warm, excited, pleading thoughts, and Ryan can feel himself flush in response.

So he rambles.

"You've got the most complex mind-structure I've ever come into contact with," Ryan admits in a single breath, "It's-- I don't know. Stimulating, but never in a bad way. Like playing a really good game non-stop. Except, you know, I can't let it take all my attention away all the time, so it's usually just... Kinda like smelling really good food all the time. But whenever you've got one of those stupid questions brewing, I can't _not_ respond, you know? Because the thought process that goes into coming up with that question in the first place is... I don't know. The brain activity dedicated to it is just..."

Ryan trails off and inhales. When he looks at Gavin's face again, Gavin's grinning.

"You like my brain?" Gavin asks.

Ryan averts his eyes. "I guess," he mumbles.

Closing his eyes, Gavin sits up a little. His hand is still on Ryan's knee.

_You're cute._

The thought slams into Ryan's skull and it's immediately clear what Gavin's trying to do.

"Ow," Ryan mumbles again, his lips moving his flushed, hot cheeks.

"Sorry," is Gavin's immediate response, but he's still grinning.

"Thanks, though," Ryan adds.

Gavin plants his other hand on Ryan's other knee.

"I like your brain, too," Gavin tells him, cheeky and warm and irresistible.

"It-- It's not the same." Ryan's tone falls. It's not like he _chose_ to like Gavin. It's not like Gavin possesses some quality that Ryan values or particularly respects in a person, it's just that...

Gavin is simply attractive. Ryan's mind yearns to constantly be in his presence, like an addiction, like his affinity for Diet Coke.

Warmth continues to pool in Ryan's head. It's only emphasized by the heat leaking out of Gavin's palms through Ryan's jeans. Gavin's thoughts are sticky, sweet, warm, like biting into caramel or gooey marshmallows, and they catch Ryan's mind by the ankles and he's falling, falling, falling.

"Sure it is," Gavin persists. "It's enough to want to be with me, innit?"

The ambiguity of Gavin's question makes Ryan's head swim.

"I like... to see you? And... be in the office with you," Ryan agrees.

"Come on, now," Gavin says, and Ryan tastes sugar.

But it's not as if Gavin isn't a good person. It's just that Ryan doesn't want to be controlled by his ability in this particular area, of all areas.

Then again, his mind is still his mind, supernatural qualities be damned. Maybe Gavin has some of Geoff's empath powers hidden away in some pockets of his mind, trying to convince Ryan to do what he (what they _both_ ) wants.

Ryan thinks about sliding his tongue into Gavin's mouth to search for hidden caches of sugar. The grip on his knees is too warm.

"Maybe," Ryan murmurs.

"You're playing awful hard to get for someone who just admitted they're incredibly attracted to my mind," Gavin teases.

Ryan wonders if tasting the inside of Gavin's mouth would be at all similar to the sensation of feeling the expanses of his mind. A shudder runs down his spine.

"You're way too smug for my liking," Ryan breathes, and Gavin continues to smile, so cheeky and sticky saccharine.

"I dunno, Ry, what were you expecting? That I wouldn't be flattered by your weird brain attraction?" Gavin sits back, finally withdrawing his hands. That smile remains on his face, but Ryan feels cold now. "Just because I don't feel it in the same way that you do doesn't mean I don't like you, Ryan. I just-- I just do. I just like you."

"You do?"

Gavin huffs, his ears taking on a new shade of red. "Wh- Yes, Ryan! What do you think I've been doing this entire time? Were we having two different conversations?"

"Sorry," Ryan mutters. He rubs the back of his neck, a soothing motion that takes his mind off the constant stimulus that is Gavin Free for a brief moment.

For just a few seconds, Ryan concentrates on the feeling of his hair against the insides of his hands, the slick sweat on his skin, the curve of his spine.

So Gavin _wants_ to have continuous contact with Ryan. It's no longer some plot his mind has against itself anymore. He can fulfill this strange craving and suffer no repercussions.

As time passes, Gavin's thoughts take a pensive turn, growing spines of worry and doubt. The gooey consistency from a few moments ago has been lost to his impatience and Ryan's hesitation.

"It's-- hard, sometimes," Ryan starts, and Gavin manages a crooked grin.

"I bet."

"Shut up for a second, okay?" Ryan lowers his head. Gavin's warmth is cooling to something bearable. "It's _difficult_ ," he tries again, "To separate what's mine and what's yours, I guess. To figure out if what you're feeling is starting to affect how I'm feeling. And trying to find that line fucks me up, too."

Gavin's nose crinkles. "You sure are ruining the illusion that telepathy's cool."

A breathless laugh shakes Ryan's chest. "Anything's cool if you don't know the bad parts of it."

Gavin rolls his eyes dismissively. "Whatever. So what's that got to do with anything?"

Still refusing to meet Gavin's eyes, Ryan continues, "I'm just saying it's hard to believe that you're not just saying it because I want you to say it. But that's faulty logic because I'm the mind reader here, not you. I'm just having trouble processing it."

Humming, Gavin leans forward again. "Overthinking things, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Ryan scoffs.

"I've an idea about what might help you really understand."

Ryan quirks a brow. "What's that?"

Finally, Ryan looks up and finds Gavin only a handful of inches away. Up close, that nose is pretty impressive, but it helps Ryan's eyes along the lines of Gavin's face, starting from his eyes down to his lips.

"I think you might be able to tell what I'm thinking," Gavin murmurs, "You don't need to be a mind-reader to figure it out, Ryan."

Ryan takes a deep breath and inhales lungfuls of Gavin.

"Okay," he mumbles, and just as his lips stop moving, Gavin surges forward to bring their mouths together.

At first, everything is soft and plush and rich, a cocktail of heavy sensations in Ryan's oversensitive brain. Gavin doesn't hold back, doesn't show fear, but Ryan can't let this be one-sided; he slides forward in his chair to make sure Gavin doesn't fall out of his.

His hands come up to cup Gavin's jaw and Gavin melts in his fingers. His thoughts slow down, oozing like thick, sweet cream through the mesh between their minds and Ryan wants to taste it all at once, opens wide to drink in every ounce of Gavin he can get.

The vibration of a whine rattles between them, deep in their lungs' cavity, rooted somewhere near the diaphragm, and neither of them can tell who made the sound, but it doesn't matter; it'll be only one of many in the time to come. Gavin's hands nestle around the heat of Ryan's throat and make a home there. Ryan's eyes are closed and he's unsure if he's dreaming.

Ryan pulls away first and his head spins, wrapped in loose strings of spun sugar.

Before he speaks, Gavin inhales, a breath whistling past his red lips. "Was that convincing enough or do you think we need another go?"

Chuckling, Ryan drops a hand to Gavin's shoulder to steer him back into Geoff's chair. "I think we should take a step back before everyone returns from lunch and sees us."

Gavin doesn't resist as he's seated. "True." A cheeky grin captures his mouth. "But wouldn't that be something? I'd bet their surprise would be hysterical to a mind-reader."

"It would be a lot to take in at once, the four of them," Ryan replies with a crooked smile.

The grin on Gavin's mouth widens. "I bet."

Covering his face with one hand, Ryan leans back, a smile hidden behind his palm and his exasperated tone. "Is this some free-for-all now? Don't I get a say in anything?"

"You just make it too easy."

Gavin stands and approaches Ryan with ease, with confidence. He traces the backs of Ryan's fingers, the ones draped over his mouth, before pulling away.

"I could go for some lunch myself, to be honest," Gavin says, "Care to join me?"

Standing there smiling, thoughts like milk and honey in the base of Ryan's skull, Gavin taps into more than one kind of hunger in the pit of Ryan's stomach. He's all kinds of fucked but he can't spare a thought towards it now.

"Of course, Gavin."


End file.
